Prefect perfection
by Fate4Destiny
Summary: One shot collection of 4 parts, (male or female) reader x Gregory Violet / Herman Greenhill / Lawrence Bluer / Edgar Redmond (The 4 prefects)
1. Chapter 1: Admiration: Gregory Violet

**Prefect perfection**

**This is composed of 4 drabbles/ one-shots.**

**Fandom: Kuroshitsuji (black butler)**

**Characters: Gregory Violet, Herman Greenhill, Lawrence Bluer, Edgar Redmond. (The 4 prefects in Kuroshitsuji)**

**Pairings: each one is a 'x reader' with one of the above mentioned characters. The reader can be male or female, it doesn't matter.**

**Please review~!**

~1: Gregory Violet: Admiration~

Violet Wolf. The house meant for the arts. You felt conflicted at the almost haunted look the main dorms had, before shaking your head to let it go. 'It would be future inspiration.' You had been telling yourself that for ages. Today would be the day you put justice to your words.

You sat down on the grass, and flipped open your sketch book. You flipped through it, trying to find at least one clean page. You finally found the last one and pulled out a pencil and eraser. All your other pencils of varying shades were in your dorm room.

Classes were done for the day so many people went around you in their way back to the dorms. Your fingers became black from graphite, and the picture before you slowly took on life. Soon the buildings and varying background was complete. The building seemed to be lacking spirit though. This was the violet wolf house. If anybody should be able to bring spirit to their house, it should be these students.

You drew in a few people who you saw, but none seemed to make the picture any better. You wet your lips, looking around you. Suddenly your eyes dawned on Gregory Violet. He was the prefect to your house, and was now so close to you. To your surprise he didn't scold you for sitting on the grass.

He had a his own sketch book on his lap, about ten pencils laying carelessly on the grass. He'd pick one up and change it every few seconds. He worked with skill and precision. He was by far the most talented in the arts in entire school. He was the symbol and representative to your house. You had to draw him in.

Once his main shape was down, you drew his underlined eyes, his multi-shaded hair. You cast deep shadows over his upper face, drawing each crease and wrinkle in the material of the hood over his face. You signed the bottom of the picture a good three hours later, rubbing your fingers on the hem of your uniform to get them clean.

You stood up and glanced back at the prefect nearby. You tore the paper out of its place and then rolled it up. You tied it with the purple ribbon you wore around your wrists as a nod to your house's colour. You then slowly walked over to the prefect.

Violet looked the tinniest bit annoyed by the fact a shadow blocked his way and he looked up. You quickly placed the rolled up picture down then turned away. You tried not to run as you could feel his gaze bore into your soul and body. You shivered before slinking into the dorms and into your room. You laid on the bed, and on second thought, glanced out the window.

You could see Violet slipping the now unrolled picture in his sketch book for safe keeping. He then stood up, his uniform rustling as he did so. Had he finished drawing already? It was a good thing you finished when you did then.

With a small smile directed at your prefect's talent, you decided to get ready for bed.

You woke up to the usual dark shadows cast in the room. The first thing you noticed was a beautiful purple rose. You slowly sat up and then picked it up. You twirled it in between two fingers, taking in the sweet fragrance.

You were about to leave the bed when you saw a single sheet of canvas rolled up with a purple ribbon around it. You undid the perfect bow and unrolled the canvas. On it was a truly beautiful portrait of you, from the day you had been on the grass. It was signed 'G.V.'. So that was why Violet left so soon after you did. You had been his model. You smiled at the thought. It was a great honour.

As the day progressed, Violet didn't say anything about you wearing the rose which was not in the dress code. You'd smile softly when you passed by him though, a blush on your cheeks. Violet would bow his head so his hood covered most of his face. But through the shadows you'd see the ends of his mouth curving upwards. And it you took the hood off, you would see that his eyes shone brightly, full on a new energy.

Sometimes admiration worked both ways. And sometimes, people could simply say the students at Violet Wolf were full of mystery and surprise.


	2. Chapter 2: Chasing: Herman Greenhill

**~2: Herman Greenhill: Chasing~**

**A/N: the game they're playing is what North Americans call soccer, what Europeans call Football. **

Green lion. The house for sports. You could feel the grass and dirt give slightly under your foot before you ran towards the net. The ball at your feet were kicked in small strokes, quickly, and never allowed to be touched by any other. As you neared the net you kicked it with great force, hitting the bottom edge of it so it lifted its way above the head of the goalie.

They jumped and caught it, causing some first year students to wince at seeing that the goalie had bare hands. Many found they couldn't take it. And they wouldn't last. The Green Lion house, though held auditions to get in, always kicked a good handful out at the beginning. Many students didn't take to like the roughness. But others, like you, thrived in it.

The feel of wind on your face, pushing your body to the limit, gliding through the air or kicking off rain-soaked ground. This was what you were good at. And Herman Greenhill could see that.

The day was slightly chilly, making a few wear sweaters over their sports uniforms. Though many of the students quickly shed theirs. Sweat dripped down your face as you stood facing across Greenhill. Your eyes could see how his chest heaved at each breath, and you briefly regretted going head to head against him. He was larger than you, and much stronger. You began to fear for a few broken bones. This was the second and final round for the day.

"You're going down, Greenhill. Wether you're my prefect or not."

The prefect merely smirked, eyes confident in telling a different story. You two gave a customary handshake, his hand warm and firm. It was a nice touch, and made you lose your focus just a little. When the whistle rang though, it had caught you off guard.

Greenhill darted past you, ball before him. You chased after him, not letting him beat you so easily like that. You should have been more focused.

You slid before him, kicking the ball to his fag which was on your team. His fag quickly ran towards the net and you got up, grass stains on your pants and palms.

"Nice work,"

You wiped your hands on your pants and looked up at him, eyes softening.

"Really?" Greenhill gulped ever so slightly before nodding and your eyes turned even softer, more compassionate, even. His breathing came harder though he was still, and his eyes focused on the ground. A flush made way up his neck and he slowly looked up. He then froze.

You were gone.

Across the field someone shouted out a warning to you as they ran next to you, and you looked over your shoulder to see Greenhill running after you. Your lead on him though caused you to kick one more time, this time getting a score. You laughed and felt your team pat you on the back. The first time someone stole the ball from Greenhill. And the prefect merely shook his head. What a pathetic, cheap trick. So why did he want it to happen again?

**A/N: two down, two to go. Half way point. Reviews please!**

**And thank you for the ones already received. They motivate me. Probably the only reason I wrote this second chapter so soon... **

**Next up: the Sapphire Owls**


	3. 3: Procrastination: Lawrence Bluer

**~3: Procrastination: Lawrence Bluer~**

Sapphire Owls. House for academics. You were subconsciously surprised. You spent your entire life being top of your classes, but always wondered why. You studied, but it must have been natural genius. You had one fatal flaw. Procrastination. And yet, you were in the top two of your all your classes. You would forever be below Lawrence Bluer, and for a good reason. He was a prefect. The best in the entire school for his own house's speciality.

What surprised you though, was that on the day before a written essay was due, Lawrence was in the library. That alone did not alert you, no, it was rather natural. In fact, the Sapphire Owls had their own library, with almost just as many books as the school's official library. What had you alerted was simply deduction. The books you required for information on this specific essay were on Bluer's table. All of them.

There was only one solution, and you hoped it wouldn't be considered rude. You slipped into the seat across from him, pulling out some paper and a pen from your bag. Since he didn't speak to you, you didn't speak back. Once you had put the words such as your name and date on, you motioned towards one of the books Bluer had.

"May I?"

The prefect looked up at you before adjusting his glasses. He then nodded, lightly pushing the books to the centre of the table. Upon any other day, he would have scolded you for waiting until last minute. But how could he when he was in the same problem as you?

You both worked silently for a few hours, and you rewrote a final copy. Once you did you closed up you books and looked up at your prefect. He was still engrossed in writing, and had two pages less than you. He was still writing though, speed meant nothing.

You picked up your bag and without a goodbye left, not wanting to disturb. When you were gone he gave a light frown though. How did you finish your work so quickly? You must have simply had a lesser quality of work then. But most of himself just scolded himself like a mantra. He should have done this essay sooner. It would be a long night.

Bluer got his essay back with a 94% on top of it. He felt content with it and wondered briefly how you did. Surely you had gotten less then him. After all, you would always be second to him.

"And you got perfect, then only one."

Professor Michaelis placed a your essay in front of you and you beamed. Finally you had risen upwards to be top of the class. Bluer refused to look at you and you looked over his shoulder to see his mark.

"That's what you get for procrastination."

"You finished your own essay last minute, that is not the problem."

"No, then what is?"

Bluer stopped his words before they came out. 'I was too distracted by you sitting across from me'. You smiled at the fact he, for once, did not have the answer. You then focused back on your work as the professor began teaching another course in Latin. Bluer merely hid his head behind his book, but still kept glancing over at you. For him, the problem was not procrastination. It was the distractions which caused that procrastination.

**A/N: think about it. Learning history in 1899. Must have been rather easy. No world wars yet to read about. *sigh* **

**After this, it's my own personal favourite prefect. I hope I do him justice... **

**Next up: Scarlet Fox.**


	4. Chapter 4: Elegance: Edgar Redmond

**~4: Edgar Redmond: Elegance~**

**Any requests for other characters? I'm willing to make another story like this for other characters. Or maybe a longer one (two?) shot for one of these characters...**

**enjoy~! And please review~!**

Scarlet Fox. House of nobility. Edgar Redmond and his fag were the two most beautiful souls in the entire campus. But Remond's being a prefect was much more than that. He represented Scarlet Fox through a degree of grace, elegance, and style. He, like a rose, could be luscious as the petals and then cruel as the thorns if he had to enforce or authorize discipline.

That's the brief poem left by a rose in the vast gardens behind the Scarlet Fox dorms. A poem left by you, he knew. The scent of the flowers you always carried was infused in the black ink and white parchment. A gorgeous, red flower pinned in your hair which always caught Redmond's attention. It wasn't just the flower though. It was the way you carried yourself, your elegance, the way you made people think you were the centre of the vast universe with just one look. Or at least that was what Redmond believed.

He slipped a perfectly folded note from his pocket and placed it back on the bench, placing his own rose with the one you left him. He wondered if you knew it was him. As a prefect, he couldn't have any relationship with any student, it would ruin the name of the prefects. But then again, any relationship between students was banned. He had to enforce that. But he let this one slide.

He walked away from the bench and sighed silently in the empty gardens. He always left his note when everybody else would be at their final study class, one he, as a prefect, could skip. He wondered when you left your note back, and he slipped your words of love into a inner pocket of his jacket. If you had known it was him, would you still feel the same way?

Redmond sat inside as rain splattered against the large windows. The main lounge room was the largest but many students left to their own room. Redmond looked around, noticing you sat in the far corner. You had a notebook in your lap and calligraphy pen. Your eyes were enamoured as they looked in the direction of the bench, and Redmond wanted to join you. He had no reason to though besides these forbidden feelings, so he staid back.

He fingered the poem he had rewritten, as the other was by now drenched with water. He then leaned back and watched the last person retire for the night. He glanced at a nearby clock to find that in a few minutes all the students should be in their rooms. It gave him an excuse.

He stood up and walked over to you, sitting on the edge of your chair. You looked up at him, then quickly covered your notebook. He could see the poem he had last given yesterday pressed between the pages.

"It's time to retire for the evening. May this help you sleep,"

He held out the poem he recently rewrote which you took with disbelieving eyes. Was Redmond the student who had been exchanging poems with your for the last few months? You blushed at the prospect before taking the folded paper and standing up.

"Redmond, I-"

Redmond stood up when you did and gave you a soft smile. "No need to say a word. We are both at fault here. It will be our little secret."

Redmond reached out and placed his hand on your cheek. You were stunned by the feel of his soft caress your face before pulling away, fingers lingering on your skin for as long as possible.

"You are such a beautiful soul. Filled with such elegance. One year, I hope you become the prefect to this house."

"Redmond, I- I can't believe you actually like me."

Redmond brushed a strand of you hair behind your ear and then kissed your forehead. His lips were soft and you felt your heart flutter at the feeling.

"I've written it countless times, my rose. And I've always known it was you. You stained my mind, have haunted me in my dreams, and catch my attention each time you're in the same room as I. So many words, one simple action."

He leaned forward, and your eyes fluttered close. You two then heard somebody come down the stairs and Redmond quickly pulled away. He flicked back loose strands of his hair and watched someone quickly grab a book that was left on a table. They looked at Redmond and you in confusion, and Redmond made a small motion with his hands.

"To bed, both of you."

His words were rather gentle and you walked up the stairs. The other student, Redmond knew, had a room near his. As you opened your door Redmond placed a kiss to the top of your head. He then slipped a rose in your hands. When you looked back, finally coming out of the shock, he was closing the door to his room. You mimicked that action.

The next day was saturday, and there were no classes. It was still raining outside, this time with sparse lightning also. No students ventured outside, and Redmond inwardly groaned. He would have to, he had a meeting with the three other prefects about a recent bullying case. And yet, he really, really didn't want to.

He caught eye of you through a crowd of students moving somewhere to spend the day in. You didn't have any flowers, unable to collect any. Nor were you dressed in anything which made you stand out from the others. But it was just the way about how you walked, which caught his eyes. And it would catch his eyes each time you were anywhere near him.

Just like his poem had stated;

"_Elegance is timeless, beauty blooms, grace shall never fall, but love is all of these. Love is a flame which shall burn hotter and hotter until our lips shall touch. And then it shall bloom in the most wonderful object of beauty. But I do not care for this beauty. All I care is for you, and my love to you._

_Perhaps one day, we can experience that burning flame blooming. _

_~Edgar Redmond, P4"_

_**And this love has started, flickered, grown, and burned. Through mystery and art, partnership and games, logic and history, and beauty and blood, this love has never seized to be blown out. **_

_**Love is like a flame in so many ways.**_


End file.
